Ok, welcome.This is where you get to offload a little stress. Tell me something that happened today (or recently, whatever) that got right up your bloody nose!I am always listening, but just so you know that I'm qualified (not like a childless social worker for instance) I shall go first...

Ahem..

In one of the towns I busk during this period of my travels, there are some pan-pipe buskers who have started coming to town up to four times a week. They play stupidly loud music from an mp3 player and play some of the pipes into mics.Today, after they had packed up, I set up outside the underpass (which we are no longer allowed to play in thanks to arguments between beggars) and was busking for about 45 mins when I noticed they had set up again, about 15 feet from me. My mate Charlie had turned up too (we duet) so I got annoyed.I went to ask them, politely of course, if they intended to wait for me to finish before they play, to which they stutteringly said they would, so we agreed on half an hour.

Ok, seems fine so far but, after half an hour Charlie and I moved into the underpass, as we normally do after 4pm as the local bobby has finished his shift, and the plastics don't care if you play there or not.Well, for the first time ever, two plastics came down and asked us to move on because of a complaint!

I am bloody sure it was the pan-pipers who called the fuzz, as I had deprived them of half an hours money. These guys are anti-social buskers... They play so loud that in some towns (they get about just like I do) no other busker has a chance as all you can hear is that racket.Shop keepers don't like em and buskers don't like em.

Unfortunately the British public seem to like em quite a bit, but I still reckon the cds they sell either never get listened to, or only get the one, perfunctory, 3 seconds of each, subsequently skipped track listen.

Aaaaand, calm.

See? I know what it is to be annoyed. But sharing is caring, so come on, what wound you up like a yo yo today?

I would offer some condolence such as 'hope it gets better' or some such drivel, but it would be disingenuous and insincere, since we both know that to work is to suffer all that, in varying degrees from many different people through the years.All that you have described is the only consistent element.